The Initiate Brother Duology

by Russell, Sean

  She slipped her sandals off as she stepped onto the porch. A harsh cough came from behind a screen set on the porch and pain flashed across the young woman’s face as though the cough had been her own.

  “Father?” she said softly.

  A long breath was drawn. “Kitsu-sum?”

  She could almost see the smile of pleasure and, as though it were a mirror, her own face also creased in a warm smile. “Yes. It is a perfect evening, is it not, Father?”

  “Perfect, yes.” There was a pause as the lord caught his breath. Kitsura examined the design on the screen, a stand of bamboo beside a tranquil pond.

  “Did you see the mist…in the garden…this morning?”

  “Yes, Father, I did. But you should not have been up, breathing that cold air.”

  He laughed, almost silently, and to his daughter it sounded like a far off echo of his old laughter. “I cannot give up…the world just yet…Kitsu-sum.” The clear, autumn air rattled in his lungs like dice in a cup and he fell to coughing terribly. The young lady cringed, closing her eyes as though this would block out the sound.

  “Should I call Brother Tessa, Father?” she asked, referring to the Botahist monk who acted as the Omawara House physician. He was unable to answer her, but just as she rose to summon a servant, he spoke.

  “No. I will stop in a…” He coughed again, but then the fit ended and he lay gasping. His daughter waited, staring at the screen that allowed her father to maintain his dignity in the face of an illness that was certainly draining him of all life. If only he could be transported to the place I see on this screen, Kitsura thought. It looks so peaceful. May Botahara grant him favor for all that he has suffered in this life.

  At last Lord Omawara lay quiet, and just when his daughter was sure he had fallen asleep, he spoke again. “Will you…go to the palace…for the Cele…bration?”

  “I will, Father. I intend to meet Nishima-sum and we shall attend the festivities together.”

  “Ah. Take her…my highest…respects.”

  “I will, Father. She has often expressed a desire to visit you and asks always after your well-being.”

  “She is…kind.” There was a long silence punctuated only by the lord’s fight for air. “You must…assure her…that…my affection…is undying…. But to…see her…would be…”

  “I understand, Father. I will explain this to my cousin.”

  “What of…Motoru-sum? Has he…gone…to Seh?”

  “I will speak to your staff who are not to worry you with such things.”

  The echo of laughter came from behind the screen.

  “But, as you know so much already, yes, Lord Shonto left for Seh some ten days ago.”

  “I am…concerned.”

  “He is wise, Father. Lord Shonto Motoru should never be a cause for worry.”

  “There is more…than the eye…sees…Denji…Gorge, Seh.” He fell into silence.

  “Lord Shonto goes nowhere without the greatest care, Sire. Our concern would be better placed elsewhere.”

  “Wise…Kitsu-sum…. Your mother?”

  “She is with you, Sire. This is her happiness. How could she be cause for concern?”

  “She…does not rest…. Worries.”

  “But she is not happy otherwise, Father, you know that.”

  “She worries that…” he coughed again but weakly, “that you are unmarried.”

  “Father. I am hardly an old maid!” She laughed her infectious laugh. “There will be time yet.”

  “Yes…but Kitsu-sum…the Emperor has…three sons only.”

  “What a pity. If he had had a fourth, perhaps he would have a son worthy of consideration!”

  The laughter echoed, ending in a wheeze. “I have…raised you with expectations…that are too high.”

  It was Kitsura’s turn to laugh. “Why do you say that? Because I consider an Emperor’s son beneath me? Well, to be honest, I would not let any of them marry my maid!”

  “Ah. Then…the Princes…must have…cluttered rooms,” the lord said.

  Kitsura laughed. “I tire you, Father. I will have Brother Tessa lecturing me again.”

  “Yes. I am…tired.”

  “I must go, Father.”

  The curtain in the screen moved slightly, and a pale, withered hand pushed through the opening. Lady Kitsura reached out and took the cold fingers within her own. It was all she had seen of her father in over four years.

  * * *

  From the balcony, Lady Nishima could look down upon the celebration, a mass of swirling color, as the courtiers and other nobles moved through the three large rooms and out onto the open terrace.

  The Emperor could be seen on his dais, surrounded by lords and ladies known for their discerning taste in the area of music. The Highest One involved himself in the judgment of a music competition.

  Very close by, on the edge of the dais, sat Lady Kitsura Omawara. She had been invited to judge the music and was now the object of much of the Emperor’s attention. Nishima could see her cousin struggling to remain polite, yet still keep her distance from the Son of Heaven. Nishima found the Emperor’s behavior shocking, yet there was nothing she could do to help. Already the Empress had retired from the gathering, and the Emperor did not seem to notice. Somewhere in the halls, Nishima had seen the young Sonsa dancer who had been the object of the Emperor’s affections so recently. Tonight, however, she was being entirely ignored and looked as one does in such circumstances. Lady Nishima stood at the rail thinking longingly of the quiet life of Lady Okara—if only….

  Young peers presented themselves before the distinguished judges and offered their very best compositions. The prizes for the winners would, no doubt, be lavish and the guests at that end of the large hall sat listening in complete silence. Strains of music drifted up to the Lady Nishima, but somehow this did not lift her spirits as it usually did.

  In the next hall, the Hall of the Water’s Voice, Chusa Seiki sat with a group of her most promising students and a few courtiers, composing a poem-series. A wine cup was set floating down the artificial stream and as it passed, each participant in turn would pick it up, drink, and recite a three line poem which echoed the verses before, incorporated a reference to a classical verse, and also added something original. Nishima had been asked to participate, but seeing that Prince Wakaro was one of the poets, she had politely declined. Besides, her mind was on other things and she did not feel that she would live up to her reputation. The subdued lamplight of the Hall of the Water’s Voice did not draw her tonight, as it often did.

  She was about to turn and rejoin the gathering when a man’s voice came from behind her.

  “The wind that rattles

  Your shoji

  Seeks only the lamp’s warmth.

  Winter gives way to

  Other seasons.

  “I thank you for the shinta flower, Lady Nishima.”

  “Not at all, General.

  “The wind through the shoji

  Causes the lamp to flicker,

  I fear that I shall be left

  In darkness.”

  She could feel his presence behind her, the Tiger in the darkness. Her breath quickened and she felt the nerves in her back come to life as though she expected to be touched at any second.

  “I remember that we spoke of gratitude,” he said.

  Nishima almost turned toward him, but stopped. “Perhaps gratitude means different things in different circles, General Katta.”

  “Please excuse me, I did not mean to suggest what you seem to think. It was I who was grateful and who continue to be.” He stopped as though to listen and then whispered. “I have information that may be of use to those who grow the shinta blossom.”

  Nishima nodded, staring down at the scene below.

  “If I am not being too bold, Lady Nishima, please join me on the balcony for a moment.” And she heard him retreat toward the open screens.

  She stood there briefly, gathering her nerve, making sure that
she was not watched, then she turned and went out into the light of the crescent moon. The night air was cool. Soft-edged clouds traveled across the sky, now covering the Bearer, now the sliver of the waxing moon.

  No one else had ventured out onto the balcony, either because they were drawn to the entertainments inside, or because the air was too chill.

  “This way, my lady.” Jaku’s voice came out of the darkness to the left and Lady Nishima could just make out the shape of a large man in the black of the Imperial Guard. She turned and followed.

  At the end of the balcony a short set of steps led to a second balcony, though this one was small and secluded, no doubt attached to private rooms. Jaku knelt on grass mats here, his formal uniform spread out around him like a fan. Nishima could see his face in the moonlight, the strong features, the drooping mustache, the gleam of the gray eyes. She knelt across from him on the soft mats.

  “I am honored that you place such trust in me, Lady Nishima.

  The shoji opens and

  The light within

  Warms even the night.”

  “Did you say you had information that may benefit my House, General?”

  The Black Tiger nodded, surprised by her coolness. “I do, my lady. Information of the most delicate nature.” He stood suddenly and went to the shoji, opening it and looking carefully inside. Satisfied, he beckoned Nishima to come with him. She hesitated but then rose and entered the chamber. Jaku did not close the screen entirely and they sat close to the opening, still lit by the moon.

  “I have information about plans that will affect your uncle, Lady Nishima. I only wish that I had received the information earlier.” He paused as though waiting for a response, but Nishima listened in silence.

  “I do not know everything yet, but there is certainly a plot against your uncle that has its origins very near the Dragon Throne.”

  Still, Nishima said nothing.

  “I take great risk telling you this. I hope that you will see it as a token of my good faith.” He said this with difficulty, as though it was not usual for him to be in a position of trying to please another.

  Nishima produced a fan from her sleeve, but instead of opening it she began to slowly tap the palm of her hand. “As you have conveyed this, it is hardly news, General Katta. Do you know more?”

  The Black Tiger did not answer immediately and Lady Nishima suppressed a smirk. Oh, my handsome soldier, she thought, you expect so little of me. Should I throw myself into your arms in gratitude?

  “I have heard more, Lady Nishima, but I wish to be certain of my reports. I would not want to give you false information.”

  “I shall pass this on to my uncle, though he must be almost in Seh by now.

  “A single warm night

  Autumn lingers beyond the walls,

  The fall grains

  Bend in the breeze.

  “The shinta blossom is also endangered by the cold, Katta-sum. It is a matter of great concern to me, and I am grateful.”

  The warrior bent his head toward the mat, more than half a bow, and when he rose he was closer to her. He bent toward her, and she returned his kiss, though she was not sure why. Jaku reached for her then, but she easily eluded him and was on her feet and at the door before he realized what she had done. She stopped for an instant and spoke quietly in her lovely, warm voice. “We cannot take too much care, Katta-sum, you know that. But we must find a way to discuss the welfare of the shinta blossom further.”

  Slipping out the door and down the steps, Nishima found that she was nearly quivering with excitement and tension. Her head spun with questions. Was it possible that Jaku Katta could become loyal to the Shonto? What a coup that would be!

  Lady Nishima returned to the entertainments and easily won a poetry contest. Many noted how lovely she looked that evening, how fully she laughed, and how engaging was her conversation. Among the ladies of the court this became the cause of much speculation.

  * * *

  Nishima ladled cha into a bowl for her cousin and then offered it, as etiquette required. It was, of course, refused, but then taken, after being offered the second time.

  The two women sat in a small chamber in Lady Nishima’s rooms. A charcoal burner glowed under the table, countering the slight breeze from the two screens that remained open to the garden. The moon was about to set and the stars were magnificent. A ground mist drifted in the garden, making dark islands of the trees and rocks.

  “I don’t know what I shall do!” Kitsura said. “It was all so entirely unexpected. What could the Emperor possibly be thinking? He cannot believe that I would consider becoming a secondary wife!”

  “Perhaps it is time for the Empress to retire to the quiet life of the nun,” Nishima offered.

  “Even so, I have no wish to be his principle wife either!” Kitsura seemed entirely desolate, her face contorted into a near grimace. “Oh, Nishi-sum, what am I to do?”

  “It is indeed difficult. If one had known this would occur, it would have been possible to take steps to avoid any embarrassment. But now,” she shook her head, “it has become a matter that, perhaps, no amount of delicacy may resolve.” She looked concerned, yet her cousin could not help but notice that there was something about her—an air of heightened being, almost—and a smile seemed to be about to appear on Lady Nishima’s face at any second, despite the seriousness of the conversation.

  A servant, hearing the voices, knocked on the screen and delivered a message to her mistress—a letter on embossed rice paper of dusky mauve. Attached to the carefully folded message was a fan of autumn ginkyo leaves. Nishima put the letter into her sleeve pocket, but not before Kitsura had seen it, and the look of pleasure on Nishima’s face.

  “I see we have different problems, cousin,” Lady Kitsura said dryly.

  Nishima laughed, but kept her silence on the matter.

  * * *

  Later, alone in her rooms, Nishima examined the note. To her great surprise and disappointment, it was not from Jaku Katta! Amazed that she would have another suitor, one that she was unaware of, the lady turned up the lamp and unfolded the letter on the table. And it was from Tanaka! There was no mistaking his elegant hand. This was most irregular. To make matters even stranger, there were two unmarked gold coins attached carefully inside. She bent over the small script and began the laborious work of deciphering one of the Shonto codes.

  When she had transposed a complete copy she sat up straight, staring at the wall, her face suddenly pale. “May Botahara save us,” she said aloud. “He is entirely mad.”

  Gold! Gold going secretly north. Tribute? Bribe? Payment? And who received it? Who was it the Emperor enriched in his effort to bring down the Shonto, for there was little doubt that this was the purpose. She pushed her hands to her eyes as though it would help her to see the meaning of this discovery, but her head seemed to spin. Picking up the coins, she rubbed them between her fingers as though she could divine their origin. Would Jaku be able to find out the destination of this fortune? But were there not Imperial Guards involved in its transport? She read the letter again. Yes. Did this mean that Jaku was party to it? In her heart she hoped this was not so. Oh, Father, what danger you journey toward.

  Eighteen

  AS A WARRIOR, Lord Komawara did not like his position. He stared up at the high granite cliffs of Denji Gorge and counted the archers looking down on the ships below. We are vulnerable, he thought.

  Ahead of his own barge, the first ships were entering the locks. It would take two days for all of the fleet to be locked through. The House of Butto had, after three days of delay, finally allowed the Imperial Governor and all those that accompanied him to pass through their lands. The depth of their suspicion had surprised even Lord Komawara, who had been expecting difficulty.

  In the past four days the young lord had attended many councils with Shonto and his military advisors. Komawara’s head spun with the mass of details, the thousand lines of speculation. The warriors who were Shonto’s advi
sors ignored no possibility in their analysis. When Komawara thought of his own councils he was embarrassed at how inadequate they seemed in comparison.

  The position of the Komawara has long been less complicated, he realized, but now that he was a Shonto ally, all would change. He must learn all he could from these meetings with the Shonto staff. These were men to be respected, and he felt honored to be among them.

  Komawara left off counting the archers on the cliff top—there were many beyond many, that was certain. The barge that preceded his, and the three craft immediately behind it, were moving into the first lock now. Despite having been through locks on many occasions, Komawara was always amazed by the process, and his admiration for the ancient engineers who had built them never diminished. They had known so much then, he thought; today this would be considered an undertaking of immense difficulty and colossal scale.

  They passed the giant bronze gates now, half as thick as Komawara’s barge was wide. Butto soldiers were everywhere. Komawara tapped his breast with his hand, reassured by the feel of the armor hidden beneath his robe. The young lord was uncertain of the bargain that Shonto had struck with the Butto but, no matter what the details, they would not have satisfied him—he did not trust either of the feuding families, and that would never change.

  The gates began to close, swinging slowly on giant hinges, their hidden mechanisms moving them inch by inch, as the lock-men allowed the water to flow through the wheels that powered the gates. So slow was their movement, that there was no sound as they came together.

  Around his barge the water began to swirl and boil. The sun lit the white foam as it danced across the surface and, almost imperceptibly, the river barges began to rise. Three of Komawara’s guards moved closer to him now, shielding him from the Butto archers as the ship rose toward them.

  They will not care about me, Komawara thought, and then realized that, as a Shonto ally, his position in the world had taken on new significance. He chose to stay on deck. We are in the party of the Governor of Seh. We travel the Imperial Waterway, where all have the protection of the Son of Heaven. What these families do here is against the law of the Imperium and should not be countenanced. He planted his feet against the motion of the ship, crossed his arms, and stared at the bowmen on the walls.